


Good Deed of the Day

by LuciaZephyr



Category: Psych
Genre: Gen, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-21
Updated: 2007-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-08 02:05:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciaZephyr/pseuds/LuciaZephyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now Gus wasn't speaking to him and Shawn's karma was not looking so good. (Post-ep for "Poker? I Barely Know Her.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Deed of the Day

The day had started well with Shawn helping his father by taking a case. Things went bad with losing the gambling kid, but swung back up when Shawn debunked the cheating kneecap-breaker who ran the games. Then, of course, Shawn had to screw that up with losing the seventy-five hundred at roulette.

Now Gus wasn't speaking to him and Shawn's karma was not looking so good.

Karma. Shawn wasn't religious, he wasn't particularly spiritual even outside church, but karma had appeal. It was a good way to live- try to get yourself kudos by doing right by people and the world will do right by you in return.

"_Innen_," Shawn murmured to himself.

"Spencer?" Lassiter looked up from the bookcase he was unloading. Man had ears like a bat.

Shawn shook his head. "Nothing, man." He was in the kitchen, across the room from Lassiter, busy packing dishes. Not plain, boring white, like Shawn had expected. Rich colors, solid red and cream, ceramic bowls and plates. Shawn was vaguely impressed. "Your wife buy these?"

"My wife cleaned me out. I got sick of paper plates in two days and went to Pier One," Lassiter replied. "You have the packing tape?"

"Here." Shawn tossed it over to him. "And I'm surprised you've even heard of Pier One."

Lassiter looked over his shoulder, eyes sharp and narrowed. "I'm not completely ignorant, Spencer." He closed up a box of novels, taping it shut. "That store is not just for metrosexual hipsters like yourself."

"Okay, any points you got for knowing Pier One are gone now. No one says 'hipster' anymore." Shawn snickered to himself, wrapping another plate in tissue paper. He'd brought a big packet of the stuff along with him when he'd shown up at Lassiter's door to offer his aid. For once, Lassiter didn't put up a fuss, just stood aside. Shawn did a quick once-over of the man, taking in the strain in his face, the slightly out-of-place hair, and how his tie was gone. Instead, Lassiter's shirt had the top two buttons undone, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the suspenders loose and hanging around his hips.

He looked tired and Shawn's resolve to not be a nuisance grew stronger.

By the time he'd arrived, Lassiter had his bedroom in boxes and was working on the den. Shawn had helped him clear that out, books upon books, a futon sofa that Shawn could tell he slept on a lot- dip on the rightmost cushion, head-shaped, throw blanket over the back had wrinkles from use- and Shawn got Gus to promise to come in the next day to safely dismantle Lassiter's computer.

After Shawn finished with the dishes, he went to get his next set of orders from Lassiter, but the man just pointed to the sofa. "Sit." Shawn complied, perplexed. Lassiter disappeared into the kitchen and return to sit in the armchair next to where Shawn was sitting. He handed over a beer wordlessly.

"Aw, Lassi, you shouldn't have."

"If that's so, give it back," Lassiter dryly replied.

Shawn hugged the bottle to his chest. "I was joking. Ha ha, a joke, see?" When Lassiter's lips twitched and Shawn quietly chuckled.

It was companionable silence for a while, a well-deserved break from the work. They'd been working for a few hours and outside the windows Shawn could see the blood-red of the sunset peeking over the rooftops.

"It was my birthday," Lassiter said quietly. Shawn turned to stare at him. Lassiter's face was expressionless, but his voice was laden heavily with disappointment.

Shawn's gut twisted, sympathetic and wishing he could show it without the threat of Lassiter clamming up and throwing Shawn out. Not with how well they were doing so far. "I know."

Lassiter laughed hollowly and knocked back a deep gulp of his drink. "When will she learn she can't force people to be perky and happy like her?"

Shawn shook his head. "Jules? I'd give her a few more months before she gets emo and jaded enough to know better."

"One would hope." Lassiter sighed. "I can't believe her. Looking through my things and losing me my goddamn house."

"Lassiter." Lassiter looked at Shawn. "I know that right now its really, really tempting, but try not to kill Juliet."

Lassiter barked a laugh. "My _house_, Spencer."

"I know. She screwed up." Shawn turned in his seat to look at Lassiter better. "But everyone is gonna make her pay for it, trust me. You don't need to unleash your Irish Drunken Rage on her, it'll be taken care of."

Lassiter stared solemnly at Shawn for a moment. "Will you?"

Shawn glanced away. "I'm not there too often."

"Liar," Lassiter accused softly.

Shawn reconsidered. "I don't like being a downer. She screwed up and I'll make some jokes about it, but I can't rip her apart for it. Not my nature."

Lassiter nodded faintly, seeming to understand. He sagged back in his armchair, comfortable and situated deep in the cushions. He could close his eyes and sleep there in all likelihood. He probably would if it wasn't going to be his last night in his house. "I really liked it here, you know."

"I can actually tell." Shawn hummed softly. "It's cozy, though a bit more bookish than I imagined." Shawn set his drink aside and got up, looking around at the few things left in the room. Paintings, interesting knick-knacks on the mantle, just little things. "You have pretty good taste."

"Thank you." Lassiter seemed to be at a loss of what to say. Shawn would bet that no one had even complimented his style, but it wasn't horrible. Chrisp, clean, but constructed around things that had meaning. Not a random collector, there were no places for unimportant things in Lassiter's home. Everything seemed perfect where it was. It was hard to believe he'd have to pack it all up and recreate his orderly world somewhere else.

Shawn felt a pang of anger at Juliet, irrational but sharp, for her inadvertantly wrecking Lassiter's safe haven from the world.

"Where will you go until you find a place?" Shawn tried to be casual.

"Find a place to keep the boxes, stay in a hotel until I find a place," Lassiter said. "I'm not choosy."

'_Who's the liar now_,' Shawn thought sadly. Lassiter was a very busy man and he'd find little time for house hunting, especially to find another perfect place like the one he'd lost.

\---

Shawn poured over newspapers, keeping a mental list. Nice two-story on Oakbridge, nicer house on 14th but that one was too small, and the expensive put nigh-perfect place at Penning and 2nd. He couldn't get his mind off the image of a non-descript hotel room prison. To Shawn, it was plain that Lassiter really needed his nest of books and old DVDs and rooms with sofas that all doubled as beds for when he was too tired to get to the bedroom.

The work was worth it for the look on Lassiter's face when Shawn went into the PD right before Lassiter was off work and dropped a sheet of paper covered in addresses and descriptions on the desk. Lassiter looked shocked, but relieved when Shawn said, "You wanna drive or should I?"

Cruising around with Lassiter, comparing wall space and room size, Shawn figured his karma was doing just fine now.


End file.
